Priceless

Yesterday, for no reason, I received two separate gifts on the same day.  Christmas is over.  It is not yet my birthday, although one gift was for my birthday and she just couldn't wait to give it to me.

This one is from my sweet girl.  A brand new journal before a brand new year.  Is is my favorite color.  She wrote the most precious note in it to me.  She is the sweetest daughter.

This is from my kindred heart, Anna.  Notice the color: favorite.  It is almost eerie sometimes how 'in tune' we can be to each other...she had no idea that just last week I got a wild hair to revamp my dining room and chose creams and ocean blues (that is a project I will tackle 'next year'...okay, I couldn't resist...).  She knows me very well though.  She said she saw it and it screamed my name (she demonstrated this...).  I love words and will one day cover my walls with them.  One day this will hang in a prominent location in a little beach side abode.  One day.

At the Edge of the Ocean

A girl can dream...

Sanctuary

Church was cancelled today.  I didn't mind one bit.  Spent the morning here instead.  I'd say it was better than any service.

Have you ever cried holding a handful of snow?  I did.  Right at this moment.  I can be overwhelmed at times by the simplest things of beauty.

Job 38:22 
"Have you entered the storehouses of the snow or seen the storehouses of the hail?


Psalm 147:16 
He spreads the snow like wool and scatters the frost like ashes. 

Peaceful End...

...and the burgeoning new things to follow...

All three of my family members commented that it had been the best Christmas they had ever experienced.  It truly was one of the most peaceful Christmases I can ever remember.  Not just an external peace that permeates the day, but an internal peace as well.  I believe it was a combination of things that made it so...we had managed all extended family gatherings well before Christmas Eve; having teenagers makes for a much more laid-back morning; due to the weather, grandparents did not drive to our house to see the kids; anticipation of and then actual snowfall on Christmas Day (first in Georgia since the 1800's).  The whole day just unfolded, slowly.

It has been two days of time dawdling.

Two days of drifting off, naps, waking when I'm good and ready and staying up to see the next day come.

Two days of silent, midnight walks and walks in the falling snow.

Two days of not having to be anywhere in the world but here.

Two days where both kids were home, stayed home, and hugged me on their way through the room.

Two days of cooking as a form of worship, its aroma an offering of deep gratitude.

Two days to remember.

Reticent Hope

It is now the wee hour of the New day,

Awaiting this Hope  for a lifetime

in silence -

Supine before the lowly bed,

my heart, the loathsome cradle waits...

this HOPE

One Love

to fill the cracked

and

brokenness

To hold the head of Diety

in straw and gritty grain

of chambers

centered within...

the barren crib -

my heart,

awaits

the peal of birth's

lusty cry

to fill

the forlorn

space inside.

HOPE is here.

Natalie Imbruglia - Torn

You Did A Good Thing (The Illusionist)

Adirondack in the Sand

Not long ago, I discovered that when I really let myself go in worship, I often find myself on the shores of an ocean with God.  It is there that I have run from Him, run to Him and run with Him in laughter.  I have swayed in His embrace to a new song and stood still, encircled in His arms, staring out into the pound of the sea.  There have even been times that He has had to scoop me up, gasping and sputtering from the implacable waves that were determined to take me under.  I've dangled from His grip on my knees, covered in sand, unable to lift my head.

Recently, I found that the shore had grown dark and cold and I could not find Him there.  One particular moment of seeking Him and crying in my own emptiness, I saw a new vision: an adirondack in the sand, white and beaconing.  

I was invited to climb up into the lap of Abba Father.  I didn't have to dance, or sing.  I was not being asked to do anything.  Just be.  In that moment it was as if I had found what I longed for all my life.  My weary spirit and silent soul just curled against the chest of my Maker and rested my head next to His heartbeat.  I envisioned that He spoke words over me to quiet me, surround me and settle me.  The rumble of His voice against my ear was a lullaby to all my sleepless nights.  It was there I knew what it meant to 'be still'.

"Be still, and know that I am God" ~ Psalm 46:10a


He says this:
"The LORD will fight for you; you need only to be still."~Exodus 14:14


While I am still in His arms, He fights for me against the onslaught.  All I need to do is be still.

It is here that I want to be right now.  I am not sure what is worse: a loneliness when you are alone or loneliness when you are surrounded by people.  Maybe it is this isolated heart, that is the catalyst  for calling out to  lean into His embrace again.  He knows me better than I know myself.  He knows that words reach me like nothing else.  Here is what He says to me:

 ¹⁷ For the Lord your God is living among you.
      He is a mighty savior.
   He will take delight in you with gladness.
      With his love, he will calm all your fears.^[a]
      He will rejoice over you with joyful songs.” ~ Zephaniah 3:17

Come find me here.  Let Your words bathe over me and fill this solitary space.

Bella Luna

Just waiting.  Patiently.  Found this beautiful song.

Perfect.

Waiting for an Eclipse

With a few hours (and quite a bit of cloud cover to wish away...) until the lunar eclipse, I thought I would sit back with some music to wait by and write a little.  The scenes are beautiful in this clip...they fade to black before the song is over, so I just closed my eyes and imagined all the most beautiful places I've seen.  Not a bad idea...

Proof

I am really not trying to boast.  I'd like to call it 'encouragement'.  Last night as I was perusing old photos in a box of pictures for Zach's senior page in the yearbook (THAT'S another post...), I found THIS.  THE dress circa 1988, complete with big 80's hair and ruffle.

And 22 years later...

Feeling okay about knocking on 40's door. 

Music for the Ice and Snow

Wildly Inspired

“The best love is the kind that awakens the soul and makes us reach for more, that plants a fire in our hearts and brings peace to our minds.” ~The Notebook

I have not been this way in a long, long time.  I have the inner fire the above quote references sparked again.  I could sit here and write for another four hours if my eyes and shoulders and next day could stand it.  I've jotted a frantic list on a notecard in hopes not to forget:

Adirondack in the Sand

                                           Hammocks Beach on a Hammock Blog

                      Skimming Stars

    Running into my 'Ice-blue Edge Around the Sun' student not long ago

Prompted vs. Unprompted writing 

             A prompt: 'Something new you've tried recently': Shots

                                           'Dear God...."

               Two health-related pieces: about fluoride and the paleolithic diet

What has gotten into me?  Where can I get more of it?

Why We Do the Things We Do

We women are some of the most interesting, complex, enigmatic, confounding, yet amazing creatures around.  I can say that, having just come home from a small pilates class, where I found myself really tuning into each of them in the dimmed light that Sabine prefers for her low-key classes.  What is even more baffling about us is that we are often most converse with our own selves than we are with anyone.

I listened as a few of them chatted away while we held poses for isometric strengthening.  Here we were, 'building our core' and toning our little hearts out, and they were discussing, with great lavish and rapture, the merits of an eggnog that can only be bought right over the state line into North Carolina that is all fresh, all natural, and all 'pack on the pounds' delicious.  I took mental note of their suggestions because now I too, was 'in'  - hook, line and sinker, for this bit of holiday nirvana.  They debated whether you add brandy or rum, and then Sabine piped in about something that started with a "D" that now had my curiosity piqued.  I will have to put my pursuit of this decadence on hold due to my disciplined eating regime of late, but that is for another story.

Another example is a friend I had one time that would go through fashion/women's magazines and put sticky notes throughout where she found various body parts/hair/eyes/bone structure that she wanted.  This same friend struggled with her weight.  She had been working hard to make a change.  And yet, she would file away image after image of impossibility.  She made repeated deposits into the bottomless 'one-size-fits-all' beauty wishing well.

A side note to all Dads (the one or two that might EVER drop in here at all...):  Glean this bit of wisdom from me as I have done a bit of informal, independent polling of random women - if you have a daughter,  TELL HER SHE IS BEAUTIFUL.  She needs to hear it.  I cannot begin to tell you how many women I know, women who have either gone down the route of eating disorders or food addictions, or gone the route of burning through man after man who treated them badly, were NEVER told they were beautiful or pretty growing up.  TELL HER SHE IS STUNNING.  Compliment her hair or her eyes.  Say SOMETHING.  JUST TELL HER.

(stepping down from the soap box)

I too, have had more than my share of ridiculous, self-denigration.  Years ago,  in a period of my life where body image and other issues battered me like a Category 4, I would scavenge for the box of the 'skinny clothes' and subject myself to outfit after outfit, sometimes not even being able to see the disaster I was attempting through the angry storm brewing in my eyes.  I knew they wouldn't fit.  Still I waged a war against my own self-confidence.  An autoimmune disfunction of the spirit.

I think milestones for women can be places where they find themselves becoming their own worst judge and jury.  As I approach one such milestone, I am no different. I had determined around my previous birthday that as I approached forty, I would do so with as much grace and enthusiasm as I could gather.  I would have a positive outlook.  My resolve began to flag about a month ago, probably due to much larger issues at hand, and I found myself thinking 'it's all over' as I approached my fourth decade on the planet.

Just yesterday I was hit with one of these moments of sheer insanity after contemplating an upcoming New Year's 80's Prom party and then a vigorous frolic to an old favorite from back in the day: 'Go get your old prom dress from junior year.  And try it on.'  "Oh, come on.  Are you serious?" my rational voice within countered.  Before I could muster another objection, I found that my feet were trodding  the steps to the basement for the 'blast from the past' box.  Oh heavens, what was I doing?

Back in the bathroom, I held up that 'hot little strapless red number' that I had chosen in 1988.  I still have my prom dresses because I chose to have my Granny make mine.  Not a popular choice then, but twenty-two years later, I have all my dresses made my her hands and I couldn't be more thankful.

As I held it up and took one last look at its small waist circumference, I dove in, literally and figuratively without another moment to chicken out.  So far, so good.  It was on.  Next was the feat of getting the zipper up.  So I turned, reached, and ever so slowly pulled that old zipper.....up.....and up.....and up.....to the very top of the dress.  It was snug, but not uncomfortably so.   I stopped and stared as the thought, "Is it really on my body and ZIPPED?" bounced off my reflection in the mirror.

Sometimes the destructive fixations that we put ourselves through can tear us down to the very core.

This time my blip of delirium turned in my favor.

I rocked that red dress.

A dress worn in 1988.

Just what I needed to keep moving forward in the direction I am headed.

In Awe and Appreciation

the versatile blogger...

I have received few awards in my life, and the handful
 I have been given were related to writing endeavors
 'way back when'.  I have to say that I believe this award
 is by far the most meaningful to me, to date.  Not only for 
who awarded it, but the timing it was received.  My first 
awareness was back in October when a status post on
 facebook alerted me to the fact that I was the recipient of 
'The Versatile Blogger' award given by my friend and 
former colleague/mentor, Rhonda Hayes.  She has been,
 and remains, one of the few people I've met that 
inspire and challenge me to reach for more than I believe
 myself capable.  When I read that my blog (in her words) 
"opened the door of blogging to me through The Slow-Dripped Life " I was absolutely floored.  That I had inspired her 
left me humbled.  It left me further speechless that it came
 at just a time I was considering laying down writing again. 
 She became that friend who, at just the right time, came
 along to whisper "Keep going.  It will be hard but don't give up." 
 It is with great awe and appreciation for this friend and
 fellow 'explorer of the adventurous life' that I accept this 
award and gladly pass along this award to those that I
 find inspiring and beautiful to me.  First, I must fulfill 
the requirements by sharing:
                      7 things About Me:




1. A pull to live somewhere internationally has been tugging 
at my being for about two years.  The early stage of planning
 has started and a ton of research has begun.  Something about 
this idea has awakened something inside of me that has been
 asleep my whole life.


2. At the heart of my childhood, I was always a reflective, 
quiet child with a steadfast love of writing.  However another 
part of me wrestled with this characteristic, believing that 
I had to be 'something else', as if that wasn't enough.  I tried a 
handful of sports, a cheer leading class (when I was very 
young), piano, and later, band in an effort to be a part of 
an 'accepted' social realm.  This wrestling continued
 for most of my adulthood as well. It wasn't until a couple 
of years ago, that I came to embrace exactly how I have 
been made, and realize that it is more than enough.


3.  I love hands.  I study them on others when I think that they 
aren't looking.  Hands tell so much about a person, I believe.  
They reveal strength, vulnerability, and intellect.  




4. Piano music has proven to be the most motivating music
 to accompany writing, for me.  I can literally loose all track
 of time to the soothing roll of piano chords and the clack 
of a keyboard.

5. When I worship and I close my eyes, I am often 
instantly transported to the shores of an ocean.  
It is there I have danced for and with God, 
run from Him, run to Him and leapt into 
His embrace, and been held, covered in sand, 
when I could barely stand.  


6. I dance.  A lot.  I remember being very little and twirling
 and choreographing numbers in my room.  I never pursued 
it as a hobby but instead have kept it as a more personal 
pursuit.  It is one of the ways in which I do worship privately 
and I often dance while running, when no one is looking.  
(at least I hope not!)  I have found that a combination of 
Santana or Dave Matthews and a balcony/porch/deck 
out under the open dark will ignite my need to move
 every time.


7.  My grandfather used to deliver for Meals on Wheels 
when I would visit them for the holidays.  I distinctly 
remember clinging to his seat or wrapping my arms
 around his neck while standing behind the driver's seat 
of his van (back before all the litany of child safety seat laws) 
as I helped him deliver meals to shut-ins.  It stands as one 
of my most impressionable memories of my childhood. 


In closing, I'd like to pass the Versatile Blogger Award onto 
some of my favorite blogs:


1. My friend and former colleague, Rhonda, who blogs about 
   growing up, family and friends, Blessings Day by Day
2.Tara, who is so incredibly beautiful inside and out, that she has
   extra to share through her inspirations on her blog, between
  you & me, living authentically
3. Becca, whose fervor for God and passion for people amaze me
   in, Simply Loved
4. Acquaintance, Jennifer, whose quiet strength as she raises
    her children and chases after God's own heart in, The
   Mason Family Journals
5. Lori, whose recent entry into the world of blogging has
    made me laugh, cry and cheer in Psycho-BLOG-therapy
    for Bittersweet Insanity
6. The OTHER Carrie Ryan, whose blog I found when I Googled
   myself.  She is a published writer, and I can honestly say, I want
  to be just like her.  Her thoughts can be found in Carrie's 
   Procrastinatory Outlet
7. Aura, whom I have never met, but know I would love dearly if
   I could.  Her inner beauty through pictures and words outshines
   her stunning outer grace in Aurajoon


When one accepts the Versatile Blogger award, there are a few requirements.


1. Thank and link back to the person that gave you the award.
2. Share 7 things about yourself.
3. Pass the award on to 7 blogs you've recently discovered and enjoy.
4. Leave your recipients a note, telling them about the award


Thank you, Rhonda, for this award, for your friendship, encouragement and words.

I want to be right here.  I will come back here.  I will find a way.

Friday Night Tunes

Inevitable......
by Anberlin

Forty Isn't for the Faint of Heart

A major milestone is looming.  It comes to mind already because this month - October - is brimming with birthdays of some special people in my life: both my Mom and Dad and my adorable niece to name a few.  It has me thinking ahead to turning the big 4-0.

My hope is to move forward, full steam, and embrace this new phase with all it's complexities.  I don't know what lies ahead and I cannot boast of 'tomorrow' but I am constructing a mental list of 'birthday year' wishes that I would like to begin to document here in hopes of fulfilling each one in time.  The list may grow beyond 'one-per-month'.  That's okay - I'm writing the rules and I can break them.

So to begin, in random order:

1) A roller skating birthday party, complete with speed skate and 'limbo'.

2) Fabulous trip to this spa (recommended by my boot camp trainer/friend, Sabine)

www.jejusauna.net

Not for the modest, but while we're breaking down walls and overcoming fears and issues, we might as well tackle the body image hurdle and enjoy other-worldly spa experiences for the day, to boot...check it out.  I am thinking this will be more suited for spring or early summer...after a good (and rigorous) exercise regime and a tan...

3)  Visit Howard Finster's Paradise Gardens

http://www.finstersparadisegardens.org/

Saw his work at the High Museum of Art over the summer and was fascinated...

4) Try a zipline - a really good one.

5)  Do a karaoke tune - by.my.self...doesn't sound daring to most...to this girl (yes, I still feel like a mere girl on the inside...) standing up in front of a crowd of any number brings back memories of junior English class and complete paralysis...

6) Sleep in the desert under the stars.  I got this idea from an article I saw recently.  It listed pricey venues for sleeping outside under the stars complete with turn-down service and a shot of Kahlua in your hot chocolate ...and then I thought, "Wait - I can't, in good conscience, plunk down that kind of dough...I can create my own experience on a much more economic budget..."  So I hope to find a spot much like I found before and put down a comfortable air mattress, crank out the favorite tune "Peaceful Easy Feeling" by The Eagles, and sip on my own concoction of Bailey's Hot Cocoa under a canopy of stars.

7)  An overnight train trip...this idea came to me tonight as I got caught at a railroad crossing.  I have not EVER viewed this as an inconvenience.  I always roll all the windows down, turn down the radio and listen to the howl of the horn and the rumble of the wheels on the track that can be felt in your chest.  I love it.

8) One more stamp in the passport - hopefully Nicaragua.

9) In conjunction with number 8, possibly, I would like to do some sort of missions in this year.  I could look for an orphanage there and hold babies....yes.  This sounds JUST like what I would love to do.

10)  Take another road trip - probably a shorter version this time.  Just point Silver due west and watch the moon and stars follow the car...


I could list more but I would like to leave room for spontaneity and new ideas to crop up along the way.  I cannot wait.

One of the many chill songs on tap tonight...

Few and Far Between

Wow.  Just read that last post and wondered, 'What the-?'  *sigh*  Inspiration comes so very little now.  The last entry sounds to me more like a ride on a tricycle down a washboard dirt road.  Overlook the horrible sentence structure and lack of grammatical sense, will you?  I am stretching these days to even eek out a few coherent syllables.

However, this past Sunday while staring out the window in the morning, these words just floated into my brain, much like the subject at hand that I was witnessing in the crisp new sun:

'glitter-gold leaves of fall,
the last of summer's hopeful sunlight
determined and clinging within the branches
before fading away'

The thoughts, like the green of summer, came and went.  Just like that.

I am hesitantly happy about something:  for the past, oh week and a half to two weeks, dreams have punctuated my sleep.  Happy for obvious reasons, but hesitant at the idea that as mysteriously as they have 'returned', I am afraid they might fade to black again.  I am wondering if they are surfacing due to more physiological reasons.  I have been taking some supplements to ward off the scary monster called 'brain fog' that plagued me for the better part of August and September.  It could be because I have been effectively eliminating toxins and nasty stuff in my diet so that I am basically subsisting on fresh fruits and veggies, nuts and the like.  The reasons could be more spiritual/emotional as well, or a combination of all reasons for weaving night tales into my dreaming world.  I will embrace them while they last, and wake to smile that I've told stories in my sleep.

Reason #432

The list is growing rapidly for all the reasons that I am more adapted every day to live in some tropical, Central American climate:

Someone is going to have to pry my open-toed shoes/flip flops off of my frozen, popsicle toes.  While friends and cohorts alike have already sprung out their fashionable boots and sweaters and vests and scarves, I remain solidly planted in my flip flops and short sleeves.  It has been balmy 75 degrees, after all, every afternoon so far.  While those same people are peeling layers and complaining of the heat, I am comfortably flying out the door and down the road, less layers - unencumbered. 

Well, look at the time.  It is officially Friday.  I've waited for this day to come for a million Tuesdays this week.  Finally.  I can look forward to 'family day' on Saturday where we go on the hunt for these:

And roast some of these:

...and sit by one of these:

There's not much better in the world.

It's the Little Things

I searched and searched for my card reader so that I could post a picture of this meaningful thing.  Right now it is hiding so a picture will have to wait.  I'll go ahead and tell about what I did find.

Two summers ago I had bought a wide silver band to wear as a thumb ring.  I am not really sure why, I just loved the look and what little jewelry I ever do wear is silver or accented with it.  Since I started wearing it , I had not taken it off.  Ever.  So imagine my bewilderment and dismay when, last fall, it just disappeared.  I could NOT figure out where it might be, or when I might have lost it.  I wondered if maybe it had slipped off due to the cooler temps that often cause my fingers to shrink.  I also thought that maybe it had come off when I played with it on my thumb, pulling it up and down over my knuckle.  No - I was sure I would have felt it drop off.

I did look for it in all the places that made sense to me.  I was baffled that it could have just ceased to exist. To all who may be thinking, "it's just a ring..." I answer "True", but ever since I was very little, I have always attached random sentiment to some of the smallest and seemingly most insignificant objects.  Not just any and everything in my possession, but certain things.  This ring was no different.

I finally just ended up buying a second, thinner silver band to replace it. However it just wasn't the same.  That was last fall.  Imagine my complete surprise when I found my original thumb ring this past weekend.  I had begun my task of tackling one very small bite of the enormous undertaking of cleaning out things in the basement.  I had started with the clothing bins to sort through.  I was making room in a crate of shirts by compiling them into another bin, and I looked down and there was my ring, wedged right along the rim of that crate!  I could NOT believe it!  How in the world did it get here?  I don't even remember moving this crate.  Unbelievable.

So during spells of life when it seems everything is an uphill walk through molasses, it's the little things that make our day, and can even give us hope.  I now wear both rings on that left thumb: a daily reminder for all I have to be thankful.  Now if I could only find that card reader...

To commemorate this act of bravery one year ago today...

Skydiving was amazing in and of itself.  But to do this with my brother and my DAD???  Priceless...

Shape of My Heart

This is it.  This is the shape of my heart.  A place I've never been.  A land I've never known.  A people I've yet to meet.  It's borders define my heart's outer edges.  

It has been a few years that a 'pull' to live in another culture has been present.  The whisper has been getting more audible, more persistent.  My wandering, gypsy heart for as long as I can remember, now makes sense.

The journey may have begun years ago, way before I knew I was on one.  The wandering  soul has always been with me, I am certain.  It just began to materialize about five years ago when, for no other reason at all, we put our 'dream house' on the market.  This house had been visualized and constructed from the ground up, beginning with wishes and prayers while perched on a fallen log on a rolling hill overlooking the Chattahoochee.  From it's unique exterior, to it's three acres of wooded hills, to the touches we created inside and out - sound system throughout, balcony from an upstairs room, enormous deck for gatherings and a screened porch that became an extension of our dining area to let the outside in...My favorites:  dark wood floors throughout, a fireplace in the master, a sweeping two-story entry that was magical for me to decorate at Christmas - but most of all, my beloved hammock that hung at the far edge of the back of the property, suspended between two trees that made you feel like you were swinging above the river in the trees...

And over the course of days, after living there three years, we were asked to give it up.  God began to work on our hearts and asked us to let it all go.  Wresting with the 'whys' of something that made absolutely no sense, and crying out into the night, hanging onto that balcony and each other, we said, 'Yes', we would give it up.  

I liken what has been transpiring over the course of the next five years ago or so to a favorite part of a best-loved book, "Thank You, Mr. Faulkner" by Patricia Polacco:

Trisha's grandma used to say that the stars were holes in the sky. They were the light of heaven coming from the other side. And she used to say that someday she would be on the other side, where the light comes from.

One evening they lay on the grass together and counted the lights from heaven. "You know," her grandma said, "all of us will go there someday. Hang on to the grass, or you'll lift right off the ground, and there you'll be!"

They laughed, and both hung on to the grass.

But it was not long after that night that her grandma must have let go of the grass, because she went to where the lights were, on the other side. And not long after that, Trisha's grandpa let go of the grass, too.

There has been a subtle 'letting go' of everything I once held 'important' or of 'value'.  As in the book, it has been a slow dying to the "things of this world" (Romans 12:2) and I can feel this 'letting go' as things drop off and away from me with each step forward.  I am seeing everything around me so differently that sometimes I think if I really voiced what I was thinking at any given moment, all within hearing range would deem me non compos mentis.  But that's okay.  Along with so many other bits of chaff being burned away, is the concern over what others might think of me.  That may have been one of the first things to go.

Roughly two years ago, I began to have an overwhelming need to purge of all unnecessary items in my house.  I have a basement cluttered and full of things that I have not touched or thought of since moving them here five years ago.  I am realizing more and more what a careless and haphazard steward of resources this is.  I have yet to make much of a dent.  At the time, I brushed it off and let the urge fade.  It is coming back.  Full force.  At this point, I might just load it all up in the back of the truck and start peddling it "Free!!  One man's junk is another man's treasure!" up and down the streets of my town.

I would be remiss if I didn't also see yet another layer of learning for me on my trip a year ago. I gleaned so much from that experience.  Rather it changed me. I found that I could function - no THRIVE- with SO. MUCH.LESS.  I basically took just what I needed, and even then used less than I brought.  I verified that, yes, I could sleep on the ground or in a car.  I could survive torrential storms.  I could bathe in the ocean and brush my teeth outdoors.  I don't mind getting dirty.  I learned that I am just not made to do the same thing, day after day, month after month, year after year, and be settled and content.  Routine and predictability smother me.  I also saw people with such clarity that my perception of humanity has been forever altered.  

I could go on.  But for now, this little place will be called 'home' for a couple of weeks in the upcoming months to explore the possibility that I will have found my heart and we move there permanently in the next couple of years.  However, I am also learning to hold so many 'thoughts' tentative, like making plans for a couple of years away, and words like 'permanent' could change in a flash.  So I am inching forward, sliding one toe over into this unknown. 

View from the porch...

Notice the hammock...

Sunroof Saturday Songs

Sometimes you just have to go country.  I came across this song yesterday rolling along with the windows and sunroof open and just fell crazy head-over-heels for it.  Love it that Zac Brown Band is also from Atlanta.  Bonus.  So if you're inclined, get this song, play it loud, roll down the windows and stick your arm out into the wind to make that fun, wavy motion as you drive along!

Other favorites today...

Sing it Ella...

Magnanimous Mondays

After a much needed break from most all things technology, here is my latest installment of 'Magnanimous Mondays'.  Current.  Simple.  Pure. 

What I'm listening to these days:









What I've read/am reading:

Just finished:

Favorite quote among many in this book:

‎"Part of me wonders if our stories aren't being stolen by the easy life."~ Donald Miller

Currently reading:

 Don't get me started.....

 Currently eating and drinking...

 Does a body good!

 Might very well turn back the hands of time...

 

Peace and moments to all on this Monday... 

 

Mercy

I went for a walk tonight, more for the need to expend pent up energy than exercise.  I made my way up to the dark, empty cul-de-sac across from my subdivision.  It is quiet there, and the darkest place I can find on foot.  This song came on as I lay down in the middle of the circle to stare up into the stars:

This song reminds me of floating in the ocean. 

  My memories grant me precious mercy.

Mercy.   
Sweet mercy.
I am grateful for every bit
that I have been given.

Ben Harper - Better Way

I personally love it when he screams these lines.  It is not only how I feel at the current moment (and yes, I would LOVE to go out into a dark field somewhere and scream) but I also love the message of this song.

Reality is sharp
It cuts at me like a knife
Everyone I know
Is in the fight of their life

Take your face out of your hands
And clear your eyes
You have a right to your dreams
And don't be denied

I believe in a better way 

Minus One Magnanimous Monday...

The previous week, there was a silence from 'the hammock'.  I will explain in a picture and words, the reason.  Last weekend I had spent 19+ hours over the course of three days, Friday to Sunday, at school working.  This was not by choice but by need for survival.  By Sunday, after a dinner out with some friends and a venti coffee, I worked until the better part of 2 a.m. Awaking by 6:00 ( I am NOT sleeping well these days at all...) I was actually up and at 'em and headed out the door early.  I had put all my plethora of bags, stacks, binders, etc. in the car the night before so I was set.

Slam the door and turn the key.  Nothing.  Silver was not up for Monday.  Dashboard lights lit up like Times Square, but no engine roaring to life.  The Hemi had a serious cold.

This was the beginning of two days of what I can only describe as a life's 'supercell'.  Muttering and clamoring back out of the car, I schlep all my stuff into Greg's truck and head on to work.  A rather normal day ensued, and I even left school at a decent hour to catch a 'sign-up' deal for an exercise class with a friend.  Remember, I was going on about four hours of steam after a LOOOONG weekend.

Fast forward to Tuesday morning.  Silver bullet is still a 'dud' in my garage so I plan to head out in Greg's truck again.  The plan was to check the Durango's battery and take it in that day, if need be.  I am, once again, piling books, binders and lunch into the backseat, balancing it on top of a golf bag already taking up the whole space.  I managed to drop about eight things in the process and bump my head reaching across the pile to get something.  I was tired.  I was worn out from a week only two days old.  I had intended to get to school early again to prepare for a sub that would be coming while I attended a 'professional development' session (two weeks into school?!?!).  My mind was reeling with all I needed to do, both for work and personally.

I was driving along talking to God (eyes open, of course...), as I often do on my short ten - minute commute.  My emotions were right on the surface of my skin as I asked to hear Him again, to gain direction.  I just wanted for Him to speak to me.  It had been too long, and I so needed to hear His voice.  WHAM!

Out of the blue, uttered prayer still lingering in the hollow of the car, the car in front of me stops without warning - no turn signal and very dim brake lights.  I register what is happening in slow motion and begin to veer to the right to avoid the aged Camry.  It wasn't enough and I slammed into him with the left side of the front of the Sportrac, sending the Camry sliding into the oncoming lane (no one was coming) and me into the ditch on the side of the road.

Thankfully, I wasn't going very fast.  Thankfully, neither one of us was hurt, other than shaken and sore. Thankfully, cars can be fixed.  Thankfully, my principal came to the scene to check on me, and seeing me visibly out of sorts, sent me home for the day.

Was that His answer to me?  He speaks in many and mysterious ways.  I did realize that as I've been seeking Him for a few specific issues of 'life stuff', it was not lost on me that for two days in a row, my attempts at spending ALL my waking hours at a job and trying to get there early were all but halted, one way or another.  I am still wondering at the reasoning for that.

Here is what came home with me this weekend:

Binders and stacks of standards, units, curriculum, lessons and blank lesson plans.  It sat in this chair since Saturday.  The title of this photograph is 'overwhelmed'.  The photo speaks for itself.